


Sugar Plum

by Coraleeveritas



Series: From Winter To Spring [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Declarations Of Love, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 06:45:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3347447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coraleeveritas/pseuds/Coraleeveritas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa has jitters before performing in The Nutcracker in front of one of her idols, Olenna Redwyne-Tyrell. Luckily Margaery is there to make things better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar Plum

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally meant to be posted at Christmas, but I hope the fluff works for Valentine's too. It's my first time writing for these two, although I've loved them for a while, so I hope it's ok.
> 
> Huge thanks, as always, go to RoseHeart and Sandwichesareyumyum for their endless patience and support as I try to write for not only my main ship but some others too. I really wouldn't want to do this without them!

No one had expected the show at Summerhall to be a sell-out, least of all Sansa Stark. And yet she smoothed down her cream satin skirt for the hundredth time and peered through the shifting, sparkling safety curtain, only to be struck by a wave of whispers louder than any of their more prestigious performances. Only the stars' home towns had pulled in greater crowds; The Eyrie, Winterfell, and Highgarden amongst them. She would be lying if she said she hadn’t dreamt of this moment many times over since she’d fallen in love with the world of ballet, though now that it had arrived and was no longer an illusion, Sansa was having trouble processing all of the sights and sounds the holiday audience were creating.

To dance for Olenna Redwyne-Tyrell was one of the dearest desires of any up and coming performer. Pictures from her award winning glory days had lined the walls of every ballet school Sansa had ever studied at, but her suddenly sweating palms and nervously metamorphosing butterflies weren't only because she was about to attempt a role perfected by one of the greats. Somewhere between coincidence and another priceless inheritance, Olenna Redwyne-Tyrell also happened to be the grandmother of her co-star, and, _kinda maybe sort of_ , girlfriend. Knowing that fact was not helping to prevent what were feeling suspiciously like opening night jitters. She wouldn't be formally introduced to Margaery’s extended family until the curtain had fallen on Summerhall for a final time, but if she couldn't prove just why she'd been granted the Northern Regions Ballet Scholarship three years in a row, then the idea of acceptance as a performer, never mind as someone who might grow to be an important part of Margaery's life, would be a long way off. And without Olenna’s seal of approval, she might as well hang up her pointe shoes and think about studying next semester’s smattering of college credits at an _actual establishment_ , like her mother desperately wanted, instead of between rehearsals or on the road to the next town.

Her lack of motivation when it came to a college education was a big deal with her parents, who’d met in middle school and been married and pregnant before senior prom, but, for as long as Sansa could remember, nothing was as sacred in the Stark household as Christmas Eve. Christmas Eve, which this year she’d spent in a generically furnished hotel room on the border of three kingdoms, none of them belonging to the home Sansa was trying with her every breath to forget she was missing. There had been a slight possibility that she might make it back in time for a muted family celebration at New Year, but even though her delivered presents remained wrapped in the hopes that she wouldn’t have to uncover them on her own, the daily weather reports from the heart of the north had dwindled that chance away to an impossibility. And now Valentine's Day was looming, she felt like she had missed her chance.

According to their musical director, Petyr Baelish, a man neither liked nor trusted by the majority of the cast, it was a rookie mistake to admit to feeling homesick during the winter run. Only Margaery had understood. And sharing that secret had ultimately ended in kissing and stripping and her current, nervous, wait in the wings.

Not knowing what else to do, she began to run through her warm up exercises again, rolling her shoulders and jumping on the spot, all fanned fingers, pointed toes, and attempted effortless grace. Under the ever watchful eyes of the settling orchestra, Sansa finally felt herself relaxing, years of training overwhelming the flickers of fear scrambling to find a foothold in her mind. So by the time the opening bars of The Nutcracker Suite floated up from the pit, laying a silencing blanket over the audience, she had slipped into her character like a fairy-tale glass slipper, the perfect fit coming as both a surprise and an inevitability. Olenna may have made the role of Clara hers two generations earlier, but, as Margaery had told her night after night, there was more than one way to dance, even if the steps were near identical.

“Oh, sweetie, there you are,” a melodic voice gently sang out, Margaery’s steps having been schooled into caressing the ground so softly that Sansa hadn’t yet adjusted to the sensation of being crept up on by an angel. Though, she remained just out of reach for now. “Ros is wandering around backstage worried that your ribbons aren’t going to stay tied again. When you’ve finished warming up, can you pop along to the dressing rooms and put her mind at ease?”

Sansa’s hands automatically rose up to tug at the triple knotted ribbon holding a cascade of auburn waves off her face, a painfully elaborate pattern of pins keeping it in place. “Sure,” she whispered, letting her eyes drift across the otherwise empty stage to take in the off duty visage of the production’s other female lead. Margaery was beyond beautiful even in her pastel blue sweats and hair net. Sansa had grown up knowing that she was pretty, but, compared to Margaery, she was still a little girl in a woman’s world. “I just…need a minute?"

On hearing the tremor wrapping itself around an unusual level of trepidation minutes before a performance, Margaery began to tiptoe across the stage, a playful smile tugging at her lips as she smoothly picked up the mannerisms of one of their chorus dancers, twitching her nose like a mouse. Sansa giggled before she could stop herself, the tension she hadn’t realised was building in her muscles again relaxing in a single breath.

And, still, as Sansa’s heart jumped joyfully, Margaery slid closer. “I didn’t mean to disturb your routine,” she murmured as she moved, mindful of how much the audience may be able to see and hear through the specially designed, voyeuristic, translucent curtain.

"You haven’t,” Sansa smiled as velour brushed against her skin, Margaery reaching out to link arms with her friend, her hands finding their usual resting places above and below Sansa’s elbow. “You never do. It’s everyone else who was trying to be a distraction.”

“I told you last night that there’s no need to worry about what they’re going to think,” Margaery reassured, running her thumb along the barely visible line of muscle moulded to Sansa’s forearm as she looked up at the redhead. “My dad keeps saying I’m a lot like my gran, so if I love you, she will as well.”

Sansa had tried not to think too much about what she’d been feeling, enjoying waking up every other morning wrapped around a person who gave affection without wanting anything but the same in return, although she knew now what the flutter in her heart meant. “I love you too.”

Soft lips pressed against her cheek, causing a heavy exhale to leave Sansa’s body in a sigh. “Now go and dance your heart out, sweet Clara.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! :)


End file.
